


Control

by aterribleinfluence



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Idiots in lust, Light Dom/sub, kinky kabby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 22:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14174283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aterribleinfluence/pseuds/aterribleinfluence
Summary: “Tonight, you’re mine. Understood?”“Yes sir.”From the kabby kink meme, the prompt was: ‘dom!kane and sub!abby, aka: just give me some orgasm control/abby begging to come/kane being a bastard’





	Control

* * *

 

 

It’s the fifth night after the fall of ALIE that it happens.

By this point, Marcus and Abby have established something of a routine. By day Abby heals the endless parade of wounded and does her best to help Roan’s physical recovery, while Marcus meets with the other Ambassadors, goes out into the city with Octavia and helps in the rebuilding, sorting through the aftermath of chaos and doing everything he can to secure their tenuous position here. Both their jobs are hard, exhausting work, physically and mentally.

In the evenings, as the sun sets, they come back to the room Marcus has been given, and close the door on the rest of the world. Breathe out. They get something to eat and then sit and talk, just the two of them, sometimes talking out problems and discussing the hardships of the day, sometimes making plans for the future, sometimes just reminiscing about old times.

Somewhere along the line, inevitably, they end up in each other’s arms. It’s never entirely intentional, never entirely accidental – it always feels like simply a natural continuation of their conversation, their own personal gravity, drawing them to each other in the gathering dark. Words turn to kisses, warm glances turn to warmer touches, and they spend the rest of each night alternating between sleep and making love.

Or rather, fucking each other senseless. Whatever you want to call it.

But on the morning after their forth night together, they awake to the sight of faint, blossoming bruises on Abby’s hips, where Marcus had gripped her tightly as she moved on top of him the night before. She notices them when she pushes off the furs to get out of bed, and sits on top of the bed for a moment longer, examining her own skin with interest.

Marcus sees her distraction and rejoins her, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, already fully clothed and ready to leave for the day. Still, there is no sense of hurrying about his movements as he strokes the marks, a light brush against her skin with his fingertips.

“Did I hurt you?” he says. He doesn’t sound worried – he knows her well enough to be sure that she would have told him if he’d done anything wrong – but there is a tenderness in his eyes that makes her take his hand gently and give it a reassuring squeeze.

“No, I liked it,” she says, and flashes him a furtive smile. “It’s nice to see you lose control just a little.”

He smiles back. “Is that right?” he says, and leans in to kiss her. Abby kisses him back, humming with pleasure against his lips, and then says: “Mmm, you could stand to lose control a bit more often with me.”

She’s not sure what made her say it, but Marcus looks a little surprised, and she hastens to explain.

“Don’t get me wrong, I have no complaints.” She shifts to sit behind him, wrapping her arms gently around his shoulders, pressing a kiss against his neck. “But I wouldn’t mind if you were a little more...forceful, with me. Sometimes.”

There is a short, very thoughtful silence. “Really?” says Marcus, his voice sounding as though he is making a careful effort to control it.

“Yeah.” He’s _definitely_ interested in this line of conversation, so she continues somewhat against her better judgement, curiosity about his reaction overriding her coyness. It’s easier, in a way, to talk to him like this, when she can’t see his face. “You know,” she murmurs, “I used to imagine it would be like that, with us. Back before everything changed. I had this fantasy that you might just crack one day and throw me up against the nearest wall.”

Marcus doesn’t reply, which is unusual for him, and glancing down over his shoulder, it’s not difficult to see the effect her confession is having on him. Abby feels a little flicker of satisfaction and presses closer to him, making sure he can feel the soft press of her bare breasts against his back.

“Sometimes you looked like you wanted to kill me,” she says. “Sometimes you just looked like you _really_ wanted to teach me a lesson.” She leans in close and whispers softly close to his ear. “Sometimes I wished you would.”

“Right.” Marcus’ voice still has that distant, slightly strained tone. “I’ll...bear it in mind.”

By the look on his face when he gets up, Abby would say he’s going to be bearing it in mind all day. He leaves rather hurriedly after that, and she goes on her way that morning feeling a little smug in the knowledge that she’s managed to so easily turn Marcus on simply by telling him the truth. She had felt unusually vulnerable, admitting some part of her fantasies about him, with their physical relationship still so new, and it is gratifying to know that he obviously feels intrigued rather than uncomfortable at her openly sharing her desires with him. It puts something of a spring in her step, but once she gets down to the business of the day – which is mostly working on physical recovery with a particularly irritable Roan – the whole exchange drifts out of her mind.

She assumes Marcus has forgotten about it too, when they return to their room that evening. There’s a tension in his posture that speaks of a difficult day, so she wastes very little time in wrapping him in her arms and dragging him over to the bed, pulling off his shirt as she goes. Sex may not exactly solve any of their problems, but it’s a hell of nice distraction for both of them.

They kiss deeply as she pushes him down onto the furs and straddles his hips, pulling off her shirt and the tank top beneath and flinging them aside. She’s already taken her necklace off, so now she’s utterly naked from the waist up, same as him, and she leans down to kiss him...

With a sudden movement Marcus surges up and seizes Abby’s hips, flipping her over onto the bed so that she’s the one lying on her back beneath him. She lets out a startled breath, and in an instant Marcus has her pinned between his arms, looking down at her with dark, hungry eyes.

“Not this time,” he says.

“Not in the mood?” says Abby archly, surprised and amused in equal measure. He pretty damn obviously _is_ in the mood, so she feels safe in teasing him a little.

“In the mood for something a bit...different,” says Marcus slowly, and there’s something in his voice that makes Abby feel suddenly shivery with anticipation, that makes her think of the fading bruises on her hip.

“Tonight, you’re _mine_ ,” he says softly. “Understood?”

Abby smirks, more than happy to play along but unwilling to let him have things _all_ his own way. “Yes sir,” she says.

She means it irreverently, a tease, but to her surprise Marcus’ eyes darken and his mouth suddenly crashes into hers, kissing her fiercely. “Say that again,” he growls against her lips.

“Yes _sir,_ Chancellor Kane.” She almost purrs it this time, drawing out the words as Marcus groans into the hollow of her throat, ravaging her neck and jawline with kisses. He kisses the sensitive skin behind her ear in the spot that always makes her sigh with pleasure, and tugs at her earlobe lightly with his teeth.

“If you want me to stop,” he murmurs, “call me by my name.”

Abby makes a soft little sound of acknowledgement, and Marcus kisses her deeply again before pulling back and examining her, his eyes thoughtful, assessing.

“Raise your hands above your head,” he says, his voice low and soft.

Abby smiles and raises her arms slowly above her head to rest on the pillows, arcing her back a little and stretching her body out in a gesture of surrender. She feels _decadent_ ; aware of her body as a physical, sexual thing in a way she hadn’t been in years, and revelling in the power she has over this man even as she lies compliantly beneath him. She can feel his desire for her radiating off him, the heat of his body over hers.

 “You have no idea how long I wanted this,” Marcus says, in that same low, intent voice. “To have you at my mercy...to do whatever I wanted to you...”

Abby sucks in a sharp intake of breath, feeling a rush of stunned arousal at his words. This is going somewhere she hadn’t really expected; Marcus has been a passionate but careful lover these last few days, hesitant, she thinks, to in any way push his luck. The sudden emergence of this confident, forceful Marcus who rakes his eyes over her body with such undisguised lust is startling, and a little enthralling. With a jolt, she recognises in him something of the man he used to be on the Ark; someone accustomed to giving orders and having them obeyed, who wore command easily and always got what he wanted.

She had told Marcus she wanted to see him lose control – but this is him _taking_ it, and Abby finds her whole body responds immediately with embarrassing eagerness. God, he’s so irresistibly compelling like this, poised over her with an almost predatory air, naked from the waist up, caging her against the bed with his firm, muscular arms. Even when they were at their most adversarial, Abby had never been intimidated by Marcus’ physical size, but in bed together she finds she is newly, deliciously _aware_ of it. The way he can pick her up and flip her over without any apparent effort. The way he can wrap his arms around her small frame and utterly envelop her in his embrace. The way they fit together so perfectly, the way he fills her so completely when he’s inside her...

Marcus smiles slightly, almost as if he can hear her thoughts, and moves down the bed with an air of unhurried purpose. Abby feels her heart start to pound faster in anticipation as he undoes the button of her jeans and pushes them down her legs, dropping them onto the floor with a soft _thump._ She squirms a little as he hooks his fingers under the thin cotton of her underwear and slides that down too. She raises her head off the pillow to see him better as his hands run leisurely back up her legs, but the moment she does he moves up and over her again, his expression severe.

“Don’t move,” he says. And it’s a _command_ , not a request.

“If I didn’t know better, Chancellor,” says Abby, with a mischievous little smile, “I might think you’ve just been waiting for an opportunity to tell me what to do.”

Marcus regards her appraisingly, apparently unconcerned with her rebellious streak even as she lies now naked and utterly vulnerable beneath him. “You know what I think, Abby?” he says softly. “I think you want this too. I think you spend your whole life taking charge of other people, taking _care_ of other people...” He reaches out and runs his fingertips down her sternum, between her breasts, a light trail that makes her shiver. “What you need is someone to take care of _you_ ,” he says. “Someone to really carefully, _thoroughly_ take care of you, over and over again.”

Abby raises her eyebrows. “You seem pretty confident you know all about what I need.”

“I know you better than you know yourself.”

“Oh, really?”

A slow smile spreads across his face. “I’m going to take care of you, Abby,” he says, and in spite of the words there’s no tenderness to his tone, only low, self-assured promise. “I’m going to make you admit how much you want this. I’m going to hear you _beg_.”

“In your dreams, Kane.”

The words slip out from somewhere buried deep inside her, a little spark of the old Abby who used to love sparring with him in Council meetings, who would never back down from him no matter what it cost her.

He smirks, she thinks in recognition, and leans down to whisper in her ear.

“You have no idea, Abby.”

He shifts down to start a slow, thorough exploration of her supine body. He nuzzles the hollow between her breasts, his beard prickling against her sensitive skin as his hands skim down her sides, running slowly along the length of her, mapping every line and curve. Abby gasps and jerks a little as his hands drift along her ribcage.

“Keep still.”

He moves down further on the bed and settles between her legs, sliding both hands slowly up her thighs to cup the sharp jut of her hipbones, stroking her skin gently with his thumbs. Then he lowers his head...

Abby exhales a quivering little sigh of pleasure as his tongue slides into her slick folds, parting her, tasting her. One long, slow lick and then another...and he raises his head again, smirking.

“Wet for me already,” he says. “Looks like you did want this after all.”

She has no reply for that other than the soft moan that falls from her lips as he returns to his task, his tongue flicking out, teasing at her clit, swirling her wetness around her twitching, sensitive flesh. Her eyes drift shut as waves of pleasure spread out through her body. One arm still flung above her, Abby’s other hand drifts down to caress her breast, longing to be touched...

Marcus’ head immediately lifts from between her legs. His face is wet with her arousal, and his eyes are so dark they’re almost black.

“Hands above your head,” he bites out. “I won’t ask again.”

Abby could have laughed at that, might have under any other circumstances, but instead she feels a shiver of arousal slide down her spine at the sharp tone of command in his voice. She raises her hand back to the other obediently and he nods, watching her appraisingly.

“Always so impatient, Abby,” he says, running his hands lazily up and down her thighs. “I think tonight we’re going to take things _slow_.”

And he does. And it’s torture of the sweetest kind because oh _fuck_ he’s good at this; it’s something Abby had imagined more than once in the recent past, but she had no idea, _no_ idea how goddamn incredible Marcus Kane would be when he went down on her. The skilful, insistent pressure of his tongue, the soft rasp of his beard on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, the way he seems to know exactly what brings her the most pleasure, every passing second pushing her higher and higher. The first time he did this she came h _ard_ , embarrassingly quickly, muffling her scream against a pillow as her body quaked against his eager mouth.

But tonight he is taking his time. He knows what will tip her over the edge, and he won’t take her there, not this time, not easily.

Still Abby’s breath is coming quicker, her senses spiralling out of control as Marcus devours her, _achingly_ slowly, his tongue moving in soft, measured strokes that nonetheless eventually start to become deeper, faster, unrelenting. Abby’s head arcs back on the pillow as she feels the pulsing glow of orgasm start to rise inexorably within her, every cell in her body contracting to a hot, tight flicker somewhere deep inside. Her hands fly down instinctively to tangle in his hair, canting her hips to get more, more, _more_...

Marcus pulls away immediately, ignoring her needy little whine of dismay. In one swift, surging movement he is over her again, pinning her arms above her head with one hand, the other braced on the bed beside her.

“I said _hands above your head_ ,” he growls.

“I—”

But he stops her mouth with his own, capturing her lips in a hard, brutal kiss. She can taste herself on his tongue and the muscles deep within her pulse and quiver in agonising little spasms of sensation, aching for the return of his touch. All Abby can do is kiss him back, try to make him feel a fraction of her need, but when he releases her lips, his gaze is still dark, unmerciful.

“I will tie your hands down if necessary,” he says grimly.

“You could try, Kane.” She reaches for defiance but the words come out breathy, trembling.

“I will _tie you down_ ,” he growls, “and I will bring you to the edge again and again with no relief. If you disobey my orders again, I will not stop until every square _inch_ of your body fully appreciates the gravity of your mistake. Do you understand me?”

Abby draws in a shaky lungful of air, stunned into obedience by the sheer force of her arousal, the part of her that longs, perversely, to discover what would truly happen if she continues to defy him. She’s far beyond any trace of amusement now, consumed as she is with desire and utterly captivated by the stern presence of this man who is at once so familiar and so strange to her.

 “Yes,” she breathes. “I understand.”

At this point she’d agree to just about anything to get him to touch her again, but to her frustration he doesn’t move back down to his former position. Instead he keeps her arms pinned above her head as he turns his attention to the rest of her body, wholly ignoring the hot, thrumming ache between her legs. He holds her easily in place with one hand as he explores her breasts, kneading the soft flesh with his free hand, licking and sucking with his mouth, teasing her nipples into stiff, sensitive peaks. Abby can’t help herself – a faint little mewling sound of pure lust falls from her lips. Oh _god,_ she was so close before she could come from just this, sweet ripples of pleasure radiating out from every place he touches her, her whole body alight and tingling with anticipation.

“Oh... _ohhhh_...”

She exhales in soft, breathy moans, the kind of sound that she knows drives Marcus crazy, but this new intent and unassailable Marcus hardly reacts, only continues his slow torment. Just as Abby reaches the point where she can hardly stand it anymore, he finally, _finally_ slides his free hand down her quivering body to rest between her legs. His fingers slip into her slick, wet heat, and he starts stroking her clit in agonising little circles, the pressure of his thumb just _right_ to send sparks shooting up her spine, pleasure swelling and swelling inside her like a ripe bud, ready to burst...

Abby whimpers. “Yes...oh _god_ yes...yes... _harder_ —”

Marcus stiffens. His hand stills.

“Was that an _order?_ ” he says.

“I...no... _please_...” Abby squirms desperately, caught on the brink, so close to release she can taste it.

“No, what?”

For a moment she has no idea what he means and then...

“No, sir...” she gasps.

Marcus smiles coldly as he watches her slump back onto the bed, the tension in her muscles dissipating, the tide of her climax ebbing away, leaving her panting and limp.

“And don’t forget it,” he says. “You don’t give me orders. You’re not in control here.” He leans down and presses a kiss to her neck, just below her ear. She feels his teeth nip at her skin, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. “And you’ll come when I decide you can come.”

Without warning, the hand resting between her legs moves and he slides two fingers inside her, giving a little growl of satisfaction as she clenches, hot and wet around him.

_“Ah..!”_

Her breath is coming in sharp, staccato bursts. Her mind has melted into nothing but an incoherent babble of _yesyesohyes..._

Marcus crooks his fingers inside her, pressing firmly up against the place where he knows the pleasure will be sweetest, and Abby practically _convulses._ He massages the little spot for a while, watching her squirm beneath him with apparent amused disinterest, ignoring her increasingly urgent whimpers of ecstasy.

“ _Fuck_ ,” she gasps, profanity spilling easily from her lips as he works her to the point of madness, his touch determined and relentless. She can feel the sweat beading her skin, the quivering of her limbs, the force building deep inside her that threatens to tear her apart. She is soaring, euphoric, and falling at the same time, towards something red and hot and devastating in its intensity, and _...ohGodohGod...oh my God...oh...OH_ —

He slides his fingers out of her too soon _, too soon_ , and Abby’s cry of loss is raw and unapologetic.

“Don’t stop,” she gasps, almost sobbing with need. “Please, _please_ don’t stop...” Her arms pull desperately against his iron grip, her whole body straining towards him.

Marcus’s soft voice falls like absolution on her ears.

“Beg me,” he says.

“Please... _please_...”

“Please, what? What do you want Abby?” He leans down and kisses her breast, tugging at her nipple with his teeth. She gives a breathy cry of delight, her back arcing up off the bed. His mouth moves up to kiss her shoulders, her neck, his tongue tasting the sweat along the sharp line of her collarbone.

“Do you want me to fuck you _hard_ until you come screaming, is that it?”

Abby lets out a desperate whine. “ _Yes_.”

Marcus almost whispers the words, a soft breath close to her ear:

“You only had to ask.”

All at once he’s fumbling at the fastening to his pants, and the part of Abby that is still capable of any thought whatsoever has the sudden realisation that Marcus has just spent the last half an hour or so running his hands and his tongue over her naked, quivering body, pleasuring her as she moans and squirms beneath him, and that he must be almost out of his mind with lust himself by now.

She had been so unbearably turned on herself, so frantic with frustration, that she had hardly spared a thought for his needs. But now she sees through the haze his panting breaths, the sweat shining on his brow, the way his hands shake a little as he pushes down his clothes and frees his desperately erect cock. He doesn’t even have the self control to remove his clothes fully, just shoves the fabric down impatiently before moving over her again and pushing inside her with a deep, masculine groan of satisfaction.

“ _Fuck_ , you feel good,” he growls, his eyes closing for a moment, his chest heaving rapidly. “Oh _yeah_...”

Abby’s whole body cries out with a sense of irrational loss as he pulls almost fully out of her, and then lights up like a firework when he thrusts back in, filling her, completing her. She only notices that Marcus had been forced to remove his grip on her wrists in order to push down his clothes when suddenly it returns, his hand clamping down on her wrists like a shackle to hold her in place, his hips finding a fast, punishing rhythm. His other hand clasps her face roughly, fingers tangling in her hair as he leans in and kisses her, fervent and deep.

Abby keens into his mouth. Her legs come up instinctively to wind around his back, everything in her given over to the urgent, delicious tempo of their entwined bodies. The fabric of his pants rasps against the skin of her thighs as he moves, the rough scrape a counterpoint to the ardent softness of his lips, the staggering pleasure of his cock pulsing inside her, hitting the perfect place with every stroke. He’s _taking_ her, hard and relentless, groaning with every thrust, sweat gleaming on the firm, flexing muscles of his shoulders as he keeps her pinned, and she bucks and writhes beneath him like a wild animal, helpless with pleasure.

“Oh god...” she gasps. “ _Oh_ —”

She bites her lips against the cry of his name that threatens to escape. Her eyes threaten to close with the intensity of sensation, but she knows, instinctively, that Marcus wants to _see_ her and her to see him, and she doesn’t dare do anything, _anything_ now that might make him stop. Her whole world has reduced to his dark, ravenous eyes, the iron grip on her wrists, the movement of his powerful, muscular body above hers, his ragged breaths as he drives deeply into her again and again and—

“You’re _mine_ ,” he pants, his voice rough, hips slamming into her. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” Abby whimpers. “I’m... _ah_ —”

He slides his hand between them and finds her clit, rubbing and rolling it between his fingers brutally; the sharp, exquisite pleasure on top of his pounding against her g-spot tips her over the edge and Abby comes like she never has in her life. The muscles deep inside her clench in a white-hot instant of rapture, and then pulse again and again as her orgasm uncoils violently through her body, wave after wave, stars wheeling behind her eyes. She hears, from somewhere far away in glittering space, the wild, shattering cry of ecstasy that can only have come from her.

Marcus doesn’t stop, doesn’t even slow down, thrusting into her with increasing urgency as she spasms and clenches around his cock. His grip on her wrists tightens to a vice, his groans become hoarse and frantic, until suddenly with one final thrust he bursts inside her with a rough, animal moan.

For a long time, the only sound in the room is their sharp, panting breaths. Tension unravels and muscles relax as they stare, caught in the endless moment, into each other’s eyes.

Marcus is the one to break the hot, slightly stunned silence.

“Abby?”

“Mmm?”

“Are you alright?”

“Mmm.”

“I didn’t go too far?”

“No honey, it was good.” She laughs breathlessly, a little giddy. “It was _incredible_.”

“Good,” he says hazily. “Good, that’s...good.”

He kisses the top of her head tenderly and then slumps back onto the bed as they disentangle themselves, pulling her gently into his arms, wrapping his body around her small frame from behind. Abby takes the hand that is draped possessively around her and kisses his fingers softly.

“Marcus,” she murmurs, tasting the word again experimentally, letting it fall delicately from her lips. “Thank you.”

She isn’t really sure what she’s thanking him for exactly. Maybe just being here, being _him._ She feels the tremor of amusement ripple through his body pressed against her.

“It was _absolutely_ my pleasure,” he murmurs, and then lets out a long contented sigh, slightly muffled in her hair. “God, I really needed that.”

“Mmm, it did seem like you were working a few things out there, Chancellor Kane.”

“I used to fantasise about throwing you up against the nearest wall too,” he admits.

Abby can’t help but laugh, delighted at his confessional tone. “Maybe we can save that for next time,” she says. “I don’t think I have the strength to stand up right now.”

“Me neither.”

Marcus shifts just enough to press a kiss against her bare shoulder before tucking her head back against his chest, curling around her in a protective kind of way that Abby likes far more than she should. It is, in a strange way, comforting to realise that both the gentle, affectionate Marcus she knows now and the commanding, powerful man he has always been can exist together in the same person, apparently quite comfortably. There is something in both that she loves, that she desires. And the unspoken promise that she can _have_ both, that Marcus has not lost that part of himself and is more than willing to let it out around her, is very _very_ pleasing. The thought of what this might mean for their relationship in the future fills Abby with a little glow of blissful anticipation.

Except...

“Anyway,” she says firmly, nestling closer into his embrace. “Next time, _I’m_ in charge.”

 

* * *

 


End file.
